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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198686">An Opalescent Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo'>100dabbo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inception (2010), Peaky Blinders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Romance, Couch Sex, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Semi-Public Sex, Stranger Sex, Strangers to Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:09:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The free-spirited Robert Fischer attempts to stay on his best behaviour at his father's charity gala, meeting a stranger in attendance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robert Fischer/Luca Changretta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Opalescent Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbusiveLittleBun/gifts">AbusiveLittleBun</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to my partner in horny crime, Ishtar!!!!! I love you so much, I hope you had a great day! ♥</p>
<p>Title (and the equivocating dialogue) is inspired by Feste's line in Act 2 Scene 4 of Twelfth Night: 'Thy mind is a very opal'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They met at a charity gala in the spring.</p>
<p>Robert was obliged to attend, per his father’s instruction, and while he wouldn’t usually mind it, to be the centre of multiple men’s attention for a whole evening certainly not being an opportunity to sniff at, it was the demands bought alongside his attendance that caused such scruple in his attitude.</p>
<p>“A suit.” Maurice had said, no quirks or qualms in his manner as he approached that besetting request. “With a tie.” That was basically twisting the knife.</p>
<p>Robert sucked his teeth, but it wasn’t like it was the end of the world, he could stomach one night in the masculine constraints of such attire, and knowing him, he could probably make it work too. When he was bribed with the idea of a new spring wardrobe, he was essentially sold on the task.</p>
<p>So, remaining on his best behaviour, drifting between the billionaire associates trying to prove their charitable souls to their various dates and peer boardmen, poising a margarita glass in a gently raised hand, Robert played the part his father so dearly wished he would; the perfect son, good enough to represent him at events such as these.</p>
<p>It was when he took the olive between his teeth, the wooden stick gliding against his pearls as it was drawn out of his mouth, that from the corner of his eye, a man caught in his glare.</p>
<p>Luca Changretta was also in attendance at his father’s will, though his acceptance of such an offer was far less begrudging. He was much less reluctant to appear amongst the men he would one day associate himself with on his father’s behalf, when the day would finally come that he was the Changretta with the most power, though it still wouldn’t be said that he was thrilled to be joined by the tax evaders that claimed to be oh so supportive of ‘saving Africa’, whatever the hell that meant.</p>
<p>The tuxedo he wore was one of his own taste, one of which he could never part with to wear another on a night like this, and it was all too admired by those he had been subjected to with their schmoozing, their superiority, and their superficial affectations.</p>
<p>With a sip of his iced whisky, the glass rim touching his bottom lip for the chilled alcohol to slip across his tongue, his eyes flicked across the room, conveniently landing on the most beautiful man he’d seen all evening, all day, all week, month, year, decade, <em>lifetime</em>. And the sight of such a young man wasn’t one he could ever pass by. </p>
<p>The gentleman fortunate enough to have gained Changretta’s attention for the better half of two minutes was quickly interrupted as Luca excused himself from his side, directing his confident, eager stride towards him.</p>
<p>The predatory slowness with which the man was approaching Robert didn’t disconcert him in any respect, and rather intrigued him all the more as to what business he might hold, as if it wasn’t entirely predictable. He remained with the wooden stick trapped in his teeth, wide eyes tracking his every move until he was right by his side, using the opportunity to provide him with one languorous look up and down. </p>
<p>He was tall. Big feet. Tight suit. Broad shoulders. Chiselled jawline. Devilish smirk. Dark eyes. </p>
<p>He was acceptable, perhaps suitable – maybe even appropriate – for Robert’s exact type. Then the man opened his mouth.</p>
<p>“Are you some kind of escort?”</p>
<p>Robert’s eyebrows shot up, but his face was all but offended, and instead, the smirk that tweaked the corners of his mouth revealed the amusement to such a presumption. He’d be the first to admit he didn’t particularly fit in with the rest of them, and it might not have been entirely out of the question that he could be some kind of date with an attendee, though the forthright, confident demeanour this man seemed to possess still shocked his otherwise placid state.</p>
<p>“Not quite.” Was his reply, holding back a giggle. He was being pimped out, but rather to the board members of Fischer Morrow to exemplify him as a good heir to the company, and less so for someone else’s salacious intent or gratification.</p>
<p>“So, you’re just a piece of arm candy then?”</p>
<p>The man gave him a similarly overt once over, letting his teeth sink into his bottom lip for the second that it endured.</p>
<p>“Let’s just say that I belong to the host of the evening.” Robert said, finally chuckling as he watched the implication set in, seeing the quick dart of those brown eyes to the side, onto Maurice at the other side of the hall, who had so far been completely ignoring his son. The man cleared his throat as though he was uncomfortable or awkward, and the tense of his jaw told Robert he’d been somewhat unsettled by his comment. “I’m his son.”</p>
<p>The clarification did very little for the man’s temperament, and his mouth parted a little in shock.</p>
<p>“You mean… You’re <em>like</em> his ‘son’?” He questioned, as though simultaneously disgusted and intrigued. </p>
<p>“No, no, I actually am his son,” He finally extended his hand after taking the pick from between his teeth, offering it to the man to be held before their palms so fleetingly met for their formal introduction, “Robert Fischer Jr.”</p>
<p>“Luca.” The man replied, letting their hands settle with a single dip before they slipped away again, discarding the stick into his blazer pocket. His first prerogative was to correct his initially discourteous and garish impression and restore his otherwise polite and genial image, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Fischer, I’ve heard—"</p>
<p>“You’ve heard it’s a pleasure to do other things to me too?” Fischer cut in, his eyes twinkling at him, eyelashes fluttering ever so lightly. No need to correct his assumptions then. “And please, call me Robert, or Robby, or Bobby, or anything that <em>isn’t</em> my father’s name.”</p>
<p>“Like what?” Luca posed, retuning his drink to his lips once again, letting him watch the slow swallow. With one more smirk, Robert nodded his head to the side and walked, indicating he would find out if he followed. Changretta didn’t hesitate for a moment to trail behind.</p>
<p>The crowd surrounding them, the commercial hive that it was, blurred and faded from Luca’s focus as the man before him strode away from them all, their indistinct chatter and noise becoming mere sound to be cancelled out the second the click of a latch and the creak of a hinge told him a door was being opened. It swung open before Robert, letting the two of them step into its silent room before closing them in once more, shutting them inside with warm light of golds and whites and browns.</p>
<p>Whether it was a conference room, or a waiting room, some kind of office or private space reserved for guests and patrons, Luca couldn’t tell, his attention was still on Robert, not that he’d even care to know anyway. The young man turned around once the door was shut, advancing on Changretta with the lascivious glint in his eyes, revealing his intentions before his mouth had the chance to, and when his mouth did expose that eager objective, rather than words slipping out of his lips with a sensual whisper, it was those lips that pressed themselves so willingly against Luca’s, hands giving a tight grasp of his belt, tugging their bodies closer.</p>
<p>So much for being on his best behaviour.</p>
<p>Equal carnal energy was reciprocated in the heartbeat that it took Luca to register what was going on, pushing the two of them onto a chaise lounge, fitting between the legs that were all too quick to spread themselves open.</p>
<p>“Anything but your father’s name, you say?” Luca asked against his mouth, breathing into him while his roaming hands traced over the suit Robert so detested wearing. He supposed he was lucky he was about to get out of it in about a minute.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He breathed back to him, fingers still firmly grasping Changretta’s belt, clumsily unlooping it from his buckle. Luca separated from him to look him in his wide, blue eyes, asking him a potential moniker he might use,</p>
<p>“Whore?”</p>
<p>“Aw,” Robert laughed to himself after he said it, biting his rosy lip, “You say that as if it’s even a question.”</p>
<p>Luca’s mouth crashed back onto his the very next moment, his strong hands tearing Robert’s jacket off of his arms, following with his suspenders, then his tie, then his shirt, until his torso was bare and all his eyes could focus on were his nipples. Already peaked, he let his thumb brush against one, and upon hearing the minute hitch in Robert’s breath, introduced his mouth while his hands made equally quick work of his trousers.</p>
<p>They were stripped, dumped on the floor where the remnants of his suit lay, and his underwear couldn’t  stand the test of Luca’s patience more than a millisecond, getting inched down his thighs until he could fling them from his ankle, rendering him in the nude beneath the other man, the stranger, the attendee who probably had a wife to go home to after that evening. That sudden thought turned Robert on too much to comprehend.</p>
<p>When he felt the initial brush of Luca’s hand against his cock and a whine quietly sounded out between them, he knew he wasn’t about to regret a thing. The man above him grinned, bringing his fingers up to Robert’s mouth, sinking his digits down his throat and across his tongue, letting the lips close around them in wanton desperation for what they were to be used for. They glided back out once satisfactorily coated and shining with saliva in the golden light, and they journeyed south again just to spread Fischer’s legs, press onto his rim, and insert themselves in a single, defining drive.</p>
<p>Robert shuddered, their length already hooking inside of him, locating that ever-abused sweet spot of his to entice the preliminary moan, to cause him to curse out in a near soundless breath, and clench desperately so as to not let them retract for a second.</p>
<p>He mewled shamelessly to feel them beckon and curl and scissor, for them to offer such pleasure just to open him up. His eyes had screwed so tightly shut that he couldn’t be overwhelmed with the grace of Luca’s handsome smile, coaxed to appearance from Robert’s carnal performance alone. </p>
<p>He was watching him with a keen eye while the bliss took hold, yearning for more and more with his pleas, all of which getting cruelly ignored before one managed to stir Luca’s lust beyond his ability to deny,</p>
<p>“<em>Please, Daddy, please fuck me!</em>”</p>
<p>It would have stopped him in his tracks if it didn’t encourage him to continue even harder, pressing his fingertips into his prostate, lavishing bliss upon bliss to his body until his own aching cock called for attention, wanting nothing more than to be inside of the tight heat he’d been preparing for the past few minutes. </p>
<p>He drew out the digits slowly, letting him adjust to their absence as he unfastened his trousers, removing the bowtie from around his neck, and then spitting on his palm roughly to slick himself up to the best of his effort. The twinkling blue eyes watched in their heavy state that considerable length be stroked up and down, clearly impressed by it, but not threatened in the slightest.</p>
<p>Roughly spreading Robert’s legs even wider, Luca kept his palm flatly braced in his inner thighs, directing his cock towards his hole slowly, cautiously lining himself up, waiting for the subtle dip of his chin to provide him with the permission he needed to start. The doe eyes looked back at him, blinking slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks, then Robert’s soft lips parted, and he nodded with three short, eager little nods.</p>
<p>Feeling the head only just breech inside of him, already stretching him wide, Robert had to grasp onto something, anything, to keep him grounded, clutching at Luca’s suit like it was a lifeline to experience the rest of it be immersed, eventually driving all the way to the hilt for the man to be stationed right between his legs. </p>
<p>Their faces were fractions apart, heavily breathing, sharing the same longing, pleasured look, the look that knew there was no going back to being just strangers in a gala hall, no going back to mindless flirting. They were going to enjoy it, yearn for it, want even more – and it wasn’t even finished just yet.</p>
<p>Luca drew out to exact his first thrust, jolting Robert’s body to make him whine and whimper, clasp so hard to Luca’s clothes that his knuckles whitened, and then the pace was set directly from then on with sharp, powerful drives, making them both feel the pleasure of each other, the desire to keep going forever, even if it had just begun.</p>
<p>Luca could tell from Robert’s previous outburst that he could do a little something to get him going, so he sucked in some air, catching up with his own breath and steadying out his pace, then ducked himself down to Robert’s ear to whisper,</p>
<p>“Be Daddy’s good little whore and jerk yourself for me.”</p>
<p>His deep voice sent a shudder down Fischer’s spine, and as the words managed to register in his head, resonating with their meaning and instruction, his hand slowly took itself from Luca’s blazer, fitting between their bodies where it held onto his prick, starting to stroke up and down. The moan he gave out to the sensation was more than just noise to Luca’s ear, but a whole beautiful sonata in itself, rising and falling as his thrusting continued, changing with his pace, his power, his practiced skill – so much so that he almost grew concerned for whether the people in the hall might hear. Almost.</p>
<p>“Let me come, Daddy, <em>please!</em>” He begged, nearing closer, prepared to do it even if he wasn’t granted the permission that was awarded regardless,</p>
<p>“Do it.” </p>
<p>The next thrust saw him spilling over his bare stomach, clenching around Luca with his shuddering body, clutching onto his suit with his free hand while his other stroked out every last drop from himself. Luca came inside of him not long after, grunting deeply beside his ear, kissing his neck with deep, languorous grace before pulling out, cupping his cheek in his palm softly, letting them catch their breaths.</p>
<p>He flopped on the other end of the lounge once he withdrew his hand, tucking himself back into his trousers, straightening out his jacket with the contended grin that stayed immovable from his lips. He watched as Robert reached for his underwear, slipping them back over his cock, grasping for his phone next over the rest of his clothes.</p>
<p>“Put your number in this.” He said, gesturing for him to take it, not giving him any option, or reason, to refuse. </p>
<p>Pausing to give him a light chuckle, Luca took the phone off of him, setting his digits into his contacts, then returned it, standing from the lounge to button up his blazer.</p>
<p>“You’ll call me?” He asked, slipping his hand into his pocket while Robert finally made a grasp for his shirt. When he nodded, he was content enough to leave, a genuine hope setting in his heart that he would. “I’ll go first, then,” He said, “It’ll look less suspicious that way.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, less ‘I just fucked the son of the host’, and more ‘I was just checking out this side-room for ten minutes on my own and then walked out with new creases in my trousers’, right?”</p>
<p>Luca pointed at him with a wagging finger, laughing,</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>And he slipped out of the room, offering a wink before shutting the door behind him and returning to the hall. </p>
<p>Robert looked down at his suit, preparing himself to put it back on, when he noticed the discarded bowtie Luca had so quickly taken off, and so forgetfully left behind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next morning when Robert woke up in his bed, the first image his mind conjured up was Luca’s face. The bowtie was still on the dresser, just next to his phone where he’d left it - the very phone Luca had put his number into to be called later. He smiled, acclimatising himself to the morning sun shooting through his window, rubbing his eyes and sprawling himself across his mattress. If only he could have immortalised that feeling, kept it there, pure, forever, to be unchanged and wholesome, to know he was sought after by this handsome stranger for another meeting or perhaps even something more. </p>
<p>He was definitely going to call him, that much was certain, but there was no harm in letting him wait just a little.</p>
<p>Breakfast was waiting for him as usual in the dining room, his place opposite his father at the table so elegantly put together with silver cutlery and antique china, freshy cooked food that was timed perfectly to his descent from his bedroom. He sat soundlessly, his father twelve feet away on the other side, fork in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other, barely, if at all, registering his son’s arrival. </p>
<p>He looked like he had something to say, like he knew something Robert didn’t and he was about to disclose that, and whether it was that he was somehow aware of his activities last night or something else entirely, Robert certainly didn’t care enough to prompt its emergence.</p>
<p>He took just one sip of his orange juice before Maurice cleared his throat, looked up, dropped his paper on the table and opened his mouth,</p>
<p>“Robert,” He said, interlacing his fingers and propping his elbows up on the table, meeting their eyes, “You need to listen to me right now,” It made him smirk in defiant instinct, but he was too curious to ignore him, “You will be doing something for me and you will not be refusing,” His smirk had never turned into a scowl faster, but he remained at the table nonetheless, placing his glass back down, “And should you refuse, your stake in Fischer Morrow shall be revoked.”</p>
<p>He was laying out a lot of conditions but had yet to reveal Robert’s actual task. It was obviously big, something that he would expect Robert to be insolent about and would also be willing to cut him off if he chose to be. There was still a hesitance in Maurice’s expression as silence drew out between them, Robert simply waiting for what was so direly important until his own impatience got the better of him.</p>
<p>“What?” He spat, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, pinching the fabric of his dressing gown between his fingers, more with anticipation than fear.</p>
<p>His emotion changed significantly once his father told him.</p>
<p>“You are engaged to Mr Changretta and will be getting married in the summer, it’s part of a business deal I managed to strike up last night at the gala.”</p>
<p>Anger sparked in his body as soon as it was said, and the rage couldn’t be helped for spreading like a vicious wildfire, smoking his mind with wrath. </p>
<p>He choked on nothing, standing from the table with such dramatic speed that the chair toppled behind him, falling to the floor with a loud bang. He blinked through his fury, his breath quickening, limbs shaking, knees about to buckle. The pit of hunger that was in his stomach just a second ago was replaced by dread. </p>
<p>“I’m <em>what?!</em>” He shouted, bracing his hands on the table’s edge, nails gripping to the varnished mahogany.</p>
<p>“You’re engaged, Robert, it was arranged last night, and it’s final, so—” </p>
<p>“He’s fucking <em>ancient!</em>” He countered, thinking about that old man he’d seen his father speak to, practically same age as him. Considering he knew his father didn’t approve of his <em>’lifestyle’</em>, as he liked to put it, the fact that he’d engage him to such a man was preposterous, unheard of, insane, even. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> sell me away like this, like I’m some kind of object you can barter with.”</p>
<p>“Robert, you’re just being emotional, think about this, he’s not—”</p>
<p>“What would mom think of you?!” Fischer finally shrieked out, using the same guilt-tripping line he himself had heard too many times to count. It stopped his father dead in his tracks. His grimace soured over his face like never before, and standing from the table, his bore his fists into tightly held balls. Robert wanted to invoke a reaction, and he most certainly attained one.</p>
<p>“Do,” He said, “Not.”</p>
<p>“She would think you’re fucking <em>disgusting</em>.”</p>
<p>“Stop.”</p>
<p>“She would think you’re <em>cruel</em>.”</p>
<p>“Robert—”</p>
<p>“She would think that you’re such a <em>horrid</em> man that you should be ashamed of yourself to even <em>breathe</em> in the same space as me.”</p>
<p>His very words echoed so much of what he was told as a child, when he was growing up, when he was flourishing into the man he was without a mother, having his father’s judgement live over him like a dark cloud with nothing to offer other than hatred and derision. Now it was his turn, and he only had one more thing to say,</p>
<p>“And she’d be fucking right.”</p>
<p>Maurice’s fist slammed down on the table, clattering the cutlery still in his place, making the table creak after the initial bang. Fischer didn’t flinch a hair’s breadth.</p>
<p>“Robert Michael Fischer.” He spat, clenching his jaw before continuing, “You will marry this man, and you will do it for yourself, unless you want to see yourself <em>out</em> of here.”</p>
<p>Robert merely shook his head, reclaiming the smug grin he had first displayed at the start of their conversation. He turned on his heels, not bothering to finish the breakfast or pick up the chair, and only retreated to his bedroom, not giving Maurice another word.</p>
<p>The first act of rebellion against his instruction was discovered that very afternoon in the garage; thin stripes across all car doors of Maurice’s favourite Porsche, tarnishing the perfect shine of the black paint finish, conveying the message well enough that this issue was not to be settled civilly.</p>
<p>The next was his wardrobe; torn, cut, burned, destroyed suits scattered about the closets, shoes scuffed, and accessories strewn all over the place. He’d spend the next month having the maid discover newly found cufflinks that’d gotten lost in the mayhem.</p>
<p>The rest were generic, anything material that Robert knew Maurice might care for, or at least be inconvenienced about their damage or misplacement. Robert’s answer to the question that was never posed, the ‘will you marry him?’ question, persisted as a resounding ‘no’, and it wasn’t going to change in the slightest.</p>
<p>It wasn’t because he was in love with anyone, only the audacity of it all, the defiance Maurice had to who his son was and what he wanted to do with his life, was the offensive part. And Robert wanted to show that in any way he could. </p>
<p>If it happened, if he did end up being forced to marry that man, he would lose everything; freedom, autonomy, his sense of independence in what he could do when and where and with whomever he liked. Nothing like last night could ever happen again, that was for sure, and that was something Robert was determined to preserve.</p>
<p>A week later, he finally stomached enduring another meal with his father, this time in the evening. There were candles on the table, large white flowers in the centre, as though it were some kind of special event. The moment he walked into the room he clocked the three places set out once again with neat cutlery and glasses. The dots weren’t too difficult to connect.</p>
<p>“He’s having dinner with us. You should know he was terribly offended when I told him how you so <em>childishly</em> reacted.” Maurice said, gesturing for him to sit down. He did not.</p>
<p>“You should tell him to go fuck himself.”</p>
<p>“You will watch your language around him when he arrives.” </p>
<p>“You can fuck yourself too.”</p>
<p>“Robert,” Maurice sounded tired, like he was more fed up with his son’s attitude than angry or disappointed, “Tell me why you don’t want to. You’ve spoken to him, you know him, what is it about him that you’re so <em>indignant</em> about?!”</p>
<p>“<em>How</em> is it not obvious to you?!” He laughed back, purely flabbergasted at the ignorance Maurice was seemingly adamant to display.</p>
<p>“Luca is a very lovely man, Robert, you were talking to him one week ago—”</p>
<p>“<em>Who?!</em>” </p>
<p>The revelation caught him so severely off guard that his hands had to be placed on the back of the chair to save him from falling. </p>
<p>“Luca Changretta, Robert, <em>God</em>, do you ever listen to a word I say?!”</p>
<p>“<em>He’s</em> Mr Changretta?” He breathed, everything suddenly becoming so much clearer, “I thought you meant his fucking <em>father!</em>”</p>
<p>Maurice only furrowed his brows before pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. The heavy sigh that ensued afterwards conveyed his disappointment, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use words too,</p>
<p>“I see your idiocy truly knows no bounds, Robert. Of course it was his son!”</p>
<p>The words went in one ear and out of the other. Fischer didn’t even register the insult, busy casting his mind back to the gala. Was it before or after they’d spoken that this was decided? Was it before or after he was fucked so excellently that Luca asked his father for his blessing? Was it before or after Luca had given him his number? It didn’t really matter, but it was happening. It was real. He finally looked his father in the eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m going to marry him.” He said, his voice soft as ever, letting the words sink into him, imprint their meaning in his mind and let no other thoughts entry. He was going to marry him. </p>
<p>He clutched onto the back of the chair, pulling it back towards him, finally about to sit down and give Maurice some peace of mind about the whole ordeal, when he thought about the day it would happen, the day of a wedding he’d often romanticise as a child, and the planner he used ti keep in a secret drawer just for himself, that not even his mother could see. He had to look at it immediately.</p>
<p>He turned his back on his father once more without a word, less vexation than the previous time, and even as Maurice shouted after him across the room while he walked down the hallway towards the stairs leading up to his room, he just ignored him, too busy exciting himself over what he would find inside it. Every other step was skipped on the ascent to the first floor of the house, and when he opened the door of his room, let his eyes target the drawer, had his hands dive in and reach out for the folder, his smile couldn’t be contained. </p>
<p>It fell open, and page after page, idea after idea, all cuts from magazines and photos still held up to his taste, still awakened that idealised fantasy of what the day could possibly be. He didn’t know this man, only understood him to the extent of carnal prowess, and yet the anticipation couldn’t be abated. He flicked to the back, past the cut outs of materials and colour schemes, the food and the delicacies, and over to the venues and locations.</p>
<p>Each and every one was a paradise in themselves, every single one sharing one vital similarity that gave the excited tremor in Robert’s hands all the more reason to be there.</p>
<p>They were all in Italy.</p>
<p>His fingertips drifted over the paper, the pictures, the places, all of the exquisite villas and coasts that he’d been dreaming of, that’d become a reality.</p>
<p>Then there was a knock on the door. </p>
<p>He turned, seeing one of his father’s staff members in the doorway, standing just behind the threshold and anxiously holding his hands together. After clearing his throat, bringing a fist to his mouth to keep his politeness intact, he gestured down the hall,</p>
<p>“Your father wants you back downstairs.”</p>
<p>“I’m busy.” Was all Robert could be bothered to justify, turning back to the planner, assuming he would dismiss himself. </p>
<p>“Mr Changretta is going to be arriving soon and he wants you at the table.” He persisted, and that was all it took to make him close the folder, stand up, and walk down with him.</p>
<p>He was in front, of course, following the long hallway with a slower pace in his step, not nervous to re-meet the stranger from the gala, but a little tense all the same. The balcony overlooking the foyer was reached. Luca had already arrived.</p>
<p>He was passing his hat off to another member of staff, unaware Robert was up there, watching, waiting to be noticed. Then his eyes glanced upwards. Robert started walking down, step by step taking the descent as calmly as he could while the beating of his heart offered nothing but incessant thudding against his ribs. </p>
<p>His hand lingered on the bannister even once he’d reached the same level as the stranger, looking him in the eyes without saying a word. He had that same smirk, this time with a toothpick between his teeth.</p>
<p>“Hey, Robert,” He said, looking like he was holding back a laugh as he took the pick from his mouth, “I just came back to pick up my tie, I think I left it with you.”</p>
<p>Robert had to bite his lip to prevent the chuckle slipping out, but the immediate, almost reflexive jerk of his shoulders gave away his amusement anyway.</p>
<p>“Sure, yeah.”</p>
<p>Luca looked around, still not a sight of Maurice in the vicinity, and continued,</p>
<p>“I heard you created quite a stir last week,” And he tsked playfully as though he was scolding him, “Now why would that be, hm? You didn’t have a good time? You’d rather key your dad’s car than get this dick again?” Robert’s eyes widened, indicating he ought to lower his voice, but he kept going nonetheless, “And here I was thinking you enjoyed it…”</p>
<p>“There was a misunderstanding.”</p>
<p>“Ah, and was that you misunderstanding your father, or him misunderstanding you?”</p>
<p>“Both, in a way.”</p>
<p>An affirmative hum was given to him, then the wooden pick was placed back between his lips.</p>
<p>“Your father wants dinner, but I was thinking you could take me on a tour first.” He said, his tone almost like an instruction, so intoxicating and enrapturing that Robert could hardly say no.</p>
<p>“The house?”</p>
<p>“The gardens.”</p>
<p>Fischer led him out without another question, heading out to his favourite spot between the hedgerows and the flowers, perfectly romantic enough for a situation like theirs, a stark opposite to the bustling and crowded space of the gala hall, and more pastoral and appealing than the white foyer.</p>
<p>He sat on his bench, crossing one leg over the other, gesturing for Luca to sit beside him and let them both enjoy the evening sun before it set on them. But Luca stayed stood, looking down on him, his face having that same look of discomfort or nervousness he’d had at the gala when their very first conversation took place.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” Robert had to ask, not entirely sure what he would even do if the answer was the negative.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to do this properly, even though you’ve known for a week, y’know?” His little grin returned again. God, he was going to propose.</p>
<p>“Then what are you waiting for?”</p>
<p>A hand was slipped into his pocket. Their eyes didn’t move away from each other even when a box was taken out. He landed on one knee and unhinged the lid to reveal the engagement ring, an opal core, glinting blue and gold in the shining sun, crowned by diamonds shimmering brightly with perfect clarity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seven months later, they attended yet another gala. </p>
<p>It was winter then, the wedding having been in August, and they appeared as a married couple for the first time in public since the ceremony. </p>
<p>It was nice, nicer than their last gala, even; happier to be with one another <em>and</em> to know their fathers approved, to know they’d be together forever in securing their wealth, and they wouldn’t have to worry about being alone ever again. </p>
<p>Luca was by his side the whole evening, a hand securely held on his lower back with a comforting hold, speaking to various important people with similar reluctance as always. </p>
<p>But there was one moment that they were apart.</p>
<p>Robert’s husband stepped away to get drinks, leaving him without chaperone. His eyes tracked around the room aimlessly, already bored with his night even though he was there with Luca, silently begging to any higher power out there that it might end, or at least become interesting to some degree.</p>
<p>That’s when he noticed someone approach in his peripheral.</p>
<p>“Either you’re an escort or you’re about to become one.” Someone said to him, their accent distinctly British.</p>
<p>It made him turn his head instantly to look at whoever it was, and that’s when his eyes fell into the most handsome stranger he’d ever seen. The man extended his hand.</p>
<p>“Mr Eames.”</p>
<p>It was accepted, shaken, and withdrawn all within a few seconds. </p>
<p>“A man said something just like that to me at the spring gala earlier this year.” Robert told him, eyes consciously darting over to the bar where Luca was still in conversation with someone else. They returned to Eames almost straight away.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah? And what happened to him?”</p>
<p>He became his husband, but Robert wasn’t about to disclose that.</p>
<p>“We fucked in that room over there.” He told him, nodding towards the very door leading to that private room. He smirked when Eames didn’t move his eyes to look. </p>
<p>“Well, I hope I’ve got half the luck he had, eh?”</p>
<p>Robert glanced once more to the bar, back to Eames, back to the door, back to the bar again and bit his lip.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ishtar, if the plot sounds familiar, it's because it's based off of a conversation we had back in September that I screenshotted and vowed to write for you for your birthday - I'm nothing if not committed ♥ Also created this relationship tag just for you, I hope we end up populating it in the future 💖</p>
<p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, you can check me out on Tumblr <a href="https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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